The Allergen in the Actor
by 554Laura
Summary: A movie star is found dead in his home, but was it murder or a tragic accident? Booth and Brennan have to work quickly to discover what really happened. Set in the present day. A bit serious but no angst between our favorite couple. And I still don't own Bones.
1. Chapter 1 The Letter

**A/N: even though Brennan and Booth don't appear in this chapter, it does set the scene for the rest of the story...**

The man who muttered noisily to himself as he walked quickly toward the computer cubicles in the public library looked like a very ordinary man. No one noticed him because he was so easy to ignore. Nobody knew how volatile he could be, because it seemed that he was just like everybody else. There was nothing, really, to set him apart from anyone else. He was just...average. Average height...average weight...average build...average everything. No tattoos, birthmarks or distinguishing features...possibly a bit of bad posture, but nothing else to set him apart from the crowd. Nondescript clothing and shoes...just average and ordinary.

"EVERYTHING EXCEPT MY INTELLIGENCE...I'M DEFINITELY SUPERIOR INTELLECTUALLY." He was very proud of what he considered to be his defining characteristic….he was brilliant….a genius actually. He'd spent many years learning to hide that fact...not letting people realize the huge amount of intelligence hidden in the plain brown wrapper of his ordinary appearance. He smiled and nodded to himself, realizing that this time he might have an edge. This might be an occasion when appearing to be an average person would be an advantage. He was so average that most people wouldn't even notice him, but if they did and were asked about it, they'd describe someone average...a man just like a hundred other men. "IT'S LIKE CAMOUFLAGE! NO ONE WHO SEES ME WILL REMEMBER ME." He laughed to himself a little too loudly, causing people around him to pay attention to him for a few seconds before ignoring him again. Being unnoticeable fit into his plan quite nicely. He could be in the target location, initiate his plan, and leave easily, melting into the vast crowd of average humanity that surrounded the nation's capital.

The man stopped and shook his head to clear his mind and looked at his surroundings again, trying to remember where he was and what he should be doing. As things came into focus, he realized, to his surprise, that he wasn't at his house anymore. Instead, he was again at the branch of the public library closest to his house. He usually didn't remember how he actually got to the library. He knew he had to get on a public transit bus heading east and he had to ride for about twenty minutes, and that the bus driver was polite, announcing the stops, but most of the days when he was there it was like he just woke up from a long, refreshing nap and somehow he was in the library with all the books and magazines. It didn't bother him too much...he liked being at the library...being around all those books in the quiet coolness of the building. It was calm there, and normally he liked calm, but today someone had, unfortunately, made him VERY ANGRY!

Today he had a different reason to be at the library. He didn't have time to hunt for new books to read or to look at the new magazines. He found one of the library's patron computers, and accessed the internet. There was a vast amount of work to be done. He had to do some extremely important research on someone. He glanced around hoping no one would see what he was doing. He glared at the boy across from him. "MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS, YOU AWFUL, NOSY BOY! GET LOST!" He snarled at the child and went back to what he was doing.

The man pulled at his hair and his shirt distractedly as he muttered vile curses to himself, whispering random, disjointed sentences as he looked through all the search engines that were available. Ah, there it was on Wikipedia. He'd finally found the information he needed. Conrad Roberts...at one time sort of a movie star. He was well known for his starring roles in low budget, low brow movies...kitschy science fiction drivel, really….the kind of movies that were shown on cable television at 2 am on the weekends to break up the monotony of the infomercials. The article mentioned a lot of different old movies he had roles in, and that he presently was living out his retirement in Washington, DC. Then he noticed the entry on Google about the recent interview Roberts had given to a tabloid magazine. He had been talking to some fawning reporter about his past life as a movie star.

The man found the article on line and skimmed through it. It was just as he thought...CONRAD ROBERTS WAS AN UNGRATEFUL BASTARD! After all of the time and energy the man had given ...all he had given of himself, of his affection, of his very soul...there wasn't one word mentioning the man in the article! The man was burning with uncontrollable rage. NOT ONE DAMN WORD ABOUT ME IN THIS WHOLE ARTICLE. IT'S LIKE I DON'T EVEN EXIST! I HATE HIM! I CAN'T STAND TO SHARE THE EARTH WITH HIM! HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO LIVE!

Well, the man knew what to do. "WE'LL JUST SEE ABOUT THAT, MR. CULT MOVIE IDOL. WE'LL FIND OUT WHO THE REAL MATINEE MASTER IS!…." He'd just set Conrad Roberts straight on how things really were in the movie business. He'd let Conrad Roberts know who was really in charge. It was time to tell the world that Conrad Roberts was a NO TALENT FRAUD...a GODDAMN FAKE...A NO GOOD SLACKER WHO FED OFF THE GOODWILL OF OTHERS!…..

Rocking back and forth, muttering and swearing to himself again, he accessed the word processing program on the computer. He'd send a letter...that's what he'd do. He'd make sure it got published in newspapers all over the world! "THEN THE WORLD WILL KNOW THE TRUTH!" The man became more and more upset and agitated, pounding violently on the keyboard as if possessed, raging about the injustices that had been heaped upon him, until the boy at the neighboring computer grew afraid of the man's behavior.

The boy ran to find a librarian and asked for assistance. He pointed to the man at the computer...the man who was rocking back and forth in the chair as he pounded the keyboard, muttering more profanities under his breath. His eyes were wild but focused at the task at hand as he shook his fist at the monitor.

The librarian smiled down at the frightened boy. "Oh, don't worry about him. He comes in all the time. He's just easily annoyed. I tell you what, come with me, and we'll find a different place for you to work, okay?"

The boy nodded, looking back at the man sitting by the computer. The boy wondered if the librarian would be so calm if he knew what the man was typing.

oooooooooo

 _TO: CONRAD ROBERTS:_

 _RE: RECENT INTERVIEW_

 _God damn it! Why can't you ever shut up, you pretentious old fool? No one cares about a washed up old actor or his "films" any more. No one cares who you are any more. The author must have been desperate if she interviewed someone like you. The magazine did the article to make you an object of derision! Your picture will be on racks by check out counters in stores all across the nation along with articles about aliens from outer space, Elvis sightings, and the latest fad diets used by anorexic movie stars! Don't you know people will point and laugh, trying to remember who you are? They'll think you used to be someone important, but they'll be WRONG! YOU ARE NOBODY ANYMORE….YOU NEVER REALLY WERE ANYBODY….ABSOLUTELY NOBODY!_

 _If you were such a wonderful actor, why aren't we living in LA instead of DC? A nice house in Malibu? That might make my life with you a little more bearable. But, no….we have to live in this hot, dirty, miserable town with all the lying political types and put up with all the gawking tourists driving up and down our street every day. That's because no one in LA will even pretend to know you, isn't it? They're embarrassed to be seen with you...you'll ruin their reputations!_

 _The only reason I'm still here working for you is the money, but I'm tired of waiting. I've waited fifteen years, listening, grinning like an idiot, and pretending to care about every word you say. I've been the lackey, the toady, feigning interest over your meager film triumphs and modest awards, falling over myself to fulfill your wishes and whims, but that's OVER. I'm in need of remuneration, and the plan is going to come into fruition. Today's the day that all my distasteful groveling will come to an end. NO MORE WAITING!_

 _There's going to be a tragic accident...the mistake of an elderly man. The autopsy will prove it! When you take your tylenol this evening for all your imaginary aches and pains and you wash it down with your goddamn organic apple juice, you'll accidentally take aspirin instead, the mistake of aged eyes. OOPS, SORRY. I MEANT TO GIVE YOU SOMETHING ELSE. ARE YOU DYING YET?_

 _You won't realize it was ASPIRIN, because you won't really have taken any pills, but the apple juice will be laced with the aspirin...two of them, finely ground to a powder and added to the glass...tasteless and odorless. No one will know that but me. It'll be our little secret, okay? IT'S FUNNY, ISN'T IT? YOU'LL DIE LAUGHING, WON'T YOU?_

 _And very soon after you drink your juice, your heart will race, POUNDING UNCONTROLLABLY, your tongue will swell TO TWICE ITS NORMAL SIZE and you'll start to WHEEZE very badly until you can't breathe at all, PANTING, HYPERVENTILATING, AND SUFFOCATING! Your heart eventually will STOP and blood will pool in your veins. You'll struggle for a while, gasping for air as you're looking for your medicine, trying to stop what's happening... TOO BAD I HID YOUR EMERGENCY EPINEPHRINE PEN...YOU CAN'T STOP THE REACTION…..but it'll be over very quickly...too quickly for me to be satisfied, but that can't be helped, I suppose._

 _I'll pretend to be upset when I find you...a performance worthy of your films. I could win the Oscar you never deserved….when I act like I CARE. I'LL BE SO HAPPY THAT YOU'RE GONE! I'll finally get what's coming to me….I'll finally get paid….._

 _ENJOY YOUR DAY BECAUSE YOUR DAYS ARE RAPIDLY COMING TO A CLOSE! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL FOR ETERNITY….THAT'S WHAT YOU DESERVE FOR TREATING ME LIKE A PIECE OF GARBAGE! DIE, BASTARD, DIE!_

Then the very ordinary man sent the letter to the library's printer, and he went to the help desk to collect it. The librarian pulled the paper off the printer without looking at it and handed the letter to the man without looking at him. The man gave the librarian a dime for the copy, thanked him politely, and walked out in the bright noonday sunshine, smiling broadly, having planned what he considered to be the perfect murder…..


	2. Chapter 2 Flesh and Bone

It was early on a sunny Saturday morning when Brennan rolled over and put her arm around her husband's waist. He had been snoring softly until her deft hand began exploring the well-formed and well-defined musculature of his chest and abdomen. As she worked her way from his pectoralis major down towards his inner thigh, Booth's eyes flew open as he found himself to be wide awake and very aroused.

"Mornin', Bones.", he laughed sleepily as he yawned and stretched. "I guess you want me to rise and shine, right?"

She giggled as she continued to stroke her husband's inner thigh. "I would like that very much...at least the rise part of your statement." She kissed the top of his shoulders and the base of his neck and whispered little puffs of air across his back, laughing at the tiny goosebumps that tracked down his arms.

He playfully squirmed from her embrace and turned to face her, running his hand down her cheek and neck, caressing her gently. "It definitely looks like you got a rise out of me, doesn't it?" He twitched his eyebrows at her as he ran the back of his hand across her abdomen.

She laughed as she glanced down towards his boxers. "Yes, it does, actually." Propping herself up on her elbow, she gave him a flirty grin. "I was thinking about our trip to the park this morning. I often find riding a carousel horse as it goes up and down, up and down to be quite stimulating…." She smiled coyly as she ran her hand up and down Booth's thigh again.

Booth moaned as the tantalizing image flashed through his mind….his nude wife on a merry go round horse….up and down, up and down….. He pulled her close so she could feel just how aroused he really was. Smirking at her, he reached under her tee shirt to caress her breasts. "So you wanna go for a ride, huh, little girl? Just what are you gonna do about it, huh? You gotta be nice if you wanna ride..." He started kissing her neck, looking for her favorite erogenous zone.

"I see." She giggled as she ran her fingernails along his spine. "Do you really want me to be nice? It seems to me that you prefer naughty…."

Taking a page from his wife's playbook, Booth nuzzled her cheek. "I think some extensive research is in order. I need to compare naughty and nice to each other so I can decide one which I like better. Let's start with the naughty part first. What did you have in mind?"

"Well..." She pulled herself on top of him…..and her phone rang. They both groaned loudly as she reached over to retrieve the offending object from her nightstand.

"Brennan….Now?...Why?...Okay…." Brennan winked and smiled suggestively at her husband as she carried on her phone conversation.

Cam had called to say that Brennan was needed at the lab immediately to examine some remains that had arrived overnight. Booth was trying to nibble her ear as she listened to the particulars.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Brennan hung up after talking to Cam and grinned as she straddled her impatient husband. "Now...where were we?"

oooooooooo

Dr. Brennan was still annoyed as she walked briskly up the steps of the lab platform, buttoning her lab coat and pulling on gloves. She hadn't appreciated being called away from her husband's affections this Saturday morning, especially since they had planned to take their children to the park to ride the carousel after a late pancake breakfast. She took one look at the body on the table, and with her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing turned toward Cam in frustration.

"Dr. Saroyan, why am I here so early today when this body isn't even ready for me?" Brennan gestured angrily at the remains on the examination table. "The amount of flesh present on this corpse makes it impossible for me to inspect these bones! We'll need to have Ms. Warren clean all of them before I can even begin to work on them." Brennan nodded toward her intern as she discussed the task at hand. "That will take several hours. I could understand this situation if this was a crime scene, but you know that here at the lab I don't like to work on bodies with so much flesh on them! This situation is unacceptable! I'm going home. Call me when Ms. Warren has completed defleshing the body." Brennan stepped off the platform and began to pull off her gloves so she could go back home to enjoy her Saturday.

Cam held her hands up, trying to get a word of appeasement in. "I understand, Dr. Brennan….I really do, and I apologize for inconveniencing you like this, but I'd appreciate it if you would stay for a just few more minutes, please. You know that normally I wouldn't call you in so early on a Saturday morning for a body already in the lab, but I wanted you to see the context of the wounds we've discovered before we removed the flesh." Cam motioned for Brennan to step back up on the the platform. "Dr. Brennan, please look at this. It's most unusual." Pointing to the torso and extremities of the body, Cam began to explain her findings. "Notice that the body is covered with ecchymosis and edema, but there appear to be no broken bones or any other sort of traumatic injuries that would have caused them to occur. Based on my initial examination of the deceased, there appears to be no other reason for the amount of bruising we see on the body, and no apparent cause of death."

"These injuries appear to be similar to those caused by some sort of impact with a large object, such as an automobile, but an object that large would also cause broken bones. Where was the body found? Why was it brought to the Jeffersonian?" Brennan leaned closer to the body and studied the ecchymosis closely.

"He was found lying dead on the floor of his living room in the early hours of this morning. The detective who was called to the house assumed this man had been beaten to death based on the amount of bruising, but I've seen no physical evidence of that. DC Metro turned the case over to us because this will probably be a high profile case. This gentleman used to be a popular movie star, and they really don't want to deal with all the publicity that goes with a case like this...especially if the cause of death isn't immediately apparent." Cam walked to the examination table and handed the case file to Brennan. "Metro has requested that the FBI take over the investigation."

"There doesn't seem to be any specific pattern to the ecchymosis on the deceased that might indicate an impact with any particular object or weapon...and definitely not fists, but note the swelling and blood pooling at the joints, especially the knees, elbows, and wrists." Brennan pointed to the noticeable dark blotches around the victim's eyes. "His eyelids appear to be swollen shut." Turning to Cam, Brennan nodded slightly. "You were correct, Dr. Saroyan. I did need to see the context of these injuries on the deceased." Cam smiled slightly at Brennan's apology, but Brennan didn't seem to notice as she studied the man's x-rays closely.

"It appears that there aren't even small fractures present on any of the bones, but we won't know for sure until they're cleaned." Brennan leaned closer to the screen. "Look at the shape of the victim's hard palate, Ms. Warren." She pointed to the skull x-ray. "See how high the palate roof is and how arched the palate is overall? It looks like an upside down U. That's quite unusual." Brennan turned back to the exam table. "Cam, have you looked at the lungs yet? Is there any evidence of scarring on the lungs, trachea, and chest wall, such as might occur in an asthmatic?" Nodding to her intern, Brennan gave more instructions. "Some asthmatics experience an expansion of their chest cavity because of their disease. Ms. Warren, after you clean the bones, you'll need to check the muscle attachments on the ribs, especially the diaphragm. Cam, what were the contents of the stomach?"

Without waiting for an answer from Dr. Saroyan, Brennan leaned down to examine the victim's head and face. Motioning toward the body, she said, "Ms. Warren, I need some assistance, please." Brennan asked Jessica to help her by holding the man's head at an angle so that Hodgins could look into the man's nasal cavity with his magnifying scopes. "Dr Hodgins, please look for evidence of nasal polyps and scarring in his sinuses."

Dr. Hodgins nodded as he bent down to look into the nose with his lighted scope. "There are several large polyps and a massive amount of scarring present on the sinus cavities and on the wall and septum of the nose itself. This guy must've had a hard time breathing through his nose." Hodgins looked into mouth of the deceased. "His tongue also looks really swollen and inflamed. I'd estimate it to be at least twice its normal size."

Cam examined the organs that she had already removed from the body. "I'd say this person was probably an asthmatic based on the amount scarring on the lungs and bronchi, but we'll have to check his medical records when they arrive to be sure. There was nothing in the stomach except some apple juice." She turned to Brennan. "Based on how detailed your questions are about the examination and the victim, you seem to have an idea as to cause of death, Dr. Brennan."

Brennan nodded and frowned slightly. "Perhaps. Have you had time to run a tox screen yet, Cam?"

"Yes. Everything appears to be normal. There were no indications of any kind of toxin present and his blood chemistry was within the expected range for a person his age except for the levels of his blood gases, which might indicate tachypnea or hyperventilation...not unexpected for someone with asthma, especially in a stressful situation. There were no signs of any infectious agents and no unexpected drugs present."

Brennan was studying the x-rays again. "Please run a screen again, but test for acetylsalicylic acid, also. We should also check the stomach contents for that same compound."

Cam was surprised. "Aspirin? Why?"

"I don't believe the bruises and edema were caused by any sort of weapon or physical attack from another person." Brennan turned back toward the body. "This person most likely died from anaphylaxis, or extreme allergic shock, caused by ingesting aspirin in some form. People who have the triad of high arching palates, nasal polyps, and asthma are often highly allergic to aspirin." Brennan paused for a few seconds, obviously thinking things through before she continued. "In my opinion, it's likely this person was murdered."

"Murdered?" Was Dr. Brennan going with her gut? Dr. Saroyan was puzzled as to why Brennan seemed to jump to that conclusion. "Couldn't this have been just an unfortunate accident? Aspirin hardly seems to be something that could be used as a murder weapon."

Brennan shook her head as she looked at the bruising again. "I doubt that this was an accident. In some extreme cases of anaphylaxis, death can occur in just a few minutes after even a slight exposure to the allergen. A person with this devastating sort of allergy would be vigilant to avoid ingesting or otherwise coming in contact with the allergen, and probably wouldn't keep it in their home."

Accessing the computer again, Brennan called up the toxicology report. "It's likely that the aspirin was given to him by someone who knew of his allergy and wished him harm, probably via the apple juice. Aspirin is relatively flavorless so it would most likely go unnoticed in the juice. It would be ignored in a normal tox screen, and so wouldn't be considered as a possible cause of death, especially in an elderly person like this. Most medical examiners would assume the aspirin was taken as a preventative against heart attacks. In this case, however, exposure to it was fatal. Do we have an identity for the deceased?"

Angela stepped onto the platform and walked over to the computer. "Conrad Roberts. He was an actor in B movies in the sixties. I've asked Aubrey to subpoena his medical records, and they'll be sent here to the lab via email."

Brennan pulled off her gloves again. "Good. We can check his records to confirm his allergy to aspirin. So, if you don't need me anymore today, Dr. Saroyan…"

"No, I think we're at a standstill with this case until we get the medical records, and I suspect that won't be until late Monday or early Tuesday."

"Good. Booth and I are going to take our children to the park to ride the carousel today." Brennan pulled out her phone. "Booth, I'm on my way home. Will you get Christine and Hank ready for the park? Thanks. Love you." She turned to Cam. "Perhaps on Monday we can begin to examine the defleshed bones." Brennan turned and quickly walked down the steps of the platform, removing her gloves as she went, and strode out the lab, leaving Cam and Ms. Warren standing next to the remains in surprised silence.

Cam glanced at Dr. Hodgins, who just shrugged and smirked at Dr. Brennan's exit. "O-kaay…", Cam said, pointing to the corpse, "Let's get these bones cleaned, Ms. Warren, so they'll be ready for Dr. Brennan on Monday."


	3. Chapter 3 Space Babes

Booth sat at his desk looking through a case file and working at his computer when Aubrey showed up at his office door, munching on the doughnut he held in one hand and carrying a box with the rest of the doughnuts in the other hand.

"Booth….you needed to see me?" Booth grunted softly and kept typing. "Hey...want a doughnut? They're from that shop you like so much in Georgetown." Aubrey brushed doughnut crumbs from his tee shirt as he fished for more information on why he was needed in the office on a weekend. "Must be a big deal if they had to call us in on a Saturday afternoon, right?"

Booth looked up from his computer. "I guess….what's with the tee shirt…'CARNIVORE'? What the Hell is that all about?"

"I didn't have time to change clothes. I was looking forward to spending my day off at the National Barbecue Battle. I read on the website that the Grand Champion Rib Master from last year is going to try out a new sauce recipe….and they're having a pork pull...and a smoke off…."

Booth rolled his eyes as he motioned for his colleague to come in. "Seriously? A barbecue contest?" He smiled, knowing that Aubrey never met a food festival he didn't like. "Okay...whatever. Maybe you'll still have time later today to go get some of that fancy grilled meat." Booth logged off his computer and drummed his fingers on the file folder as Aubrey came in and sat down. "Yeah, this case could be kind of a big deal." Booth ate his doughnut and read from the case file as he began to explain the situation to Aubrey. "The victim's personal valet found him dead on his living room floor in the early hours of this morning, and called DC Metro. The detective who was called to the scene wasn't sure if it was a murder, but she thought it looked like a suspicious death. Even though the deceased was an elderly man with health issues, she thought something about the situation looked hinky. Anyway, they want us to take over the investigation because there might be some national attention on the case, and Metro doesn't like to handle that sort of shit. Our victim's name is Conrad Roberts…"

Aubrey interrupted. "Wait...Conrad Roberts, that movie star from the sixties? From those old sci fi flicks? He was one of my all time favorite actors. He had this great gravelly voice... Wow...that's too bad. He was in the Space Babe movie series, remember? Man, I loved 'Martian Minxes' and 'Saturn's She-Devils' when I was a boy. He always played the creepy bad guy...usually the leader of some sort of alien group from another planet that was trying to take over the Earth. He'd have this army of beautiful, scantily clad female warriors who'd capture the unsuspecting good guys using their feminine wiles….I wonder what ever happened to the actor that played the hero, Captain Glenn Taylor….I used to spend hours watching those movies on Saturday afternoons when I was a kid."

Booth cleared his throat loudly to interrupt Aubrey and started again. "Conrad Roberts, age 80, died of anaphylactic shock due to the ingestion of aspirin. That's the official cause of death, but Bones is pretty sure it's murder. She says that someone with this kind of severe allergy probably wouldn't keep the stuff around their house because even tiny amounts of it could kill them." Booth tapped the file with his index finger and smirked. "Get this...Bones is going with her gut instinct on this one when she says it's murder….even though Dr. Saroyan is still leaning towards his death being an accident."

"Whoa….Dr. B is guessing?" Aubrey's eyes grew wide as he shook his head and shuddered at the thought.

Booth chuckled softly. "Well, she's not guessing, exactly...but she doesn't have any hard evidence that it's really murder yet." Booth pursed his lips and cocked his head to one side. "Bones is convinced someone must have spiked the guy's apple juice with aspirin." 

"All three guys we're going to interview this afternoon know that the victim was highly allergic to aspirin, right? Do any of them have any motive that might make them look like viable suspects?" Aubrey began looking through the file. He picked up the picture of Conrad Roberts. "Roberts really looks bad in this picture...time was definitely not his friend."

"His valet said he'd had a lot of health problems over the last few years of his life." Booth referred to the file again. "All three of his employees been with him for years...the valet, a personal assistant/secretary, and an actor's agent. Here's what we know so far from DC Metro's report. Roberts owned the duplex where he died. He lived on one side and the valet, William Derner, has his own separate side of the duplex and was available 24 hours a day. The personal assistant, Kevin Maxwell, saw him five or six times a week, and the agent, Harry Reese, once or twice a week." Booth pulled a sheet of paper from the file and handed it to Aubrey. "Here's statement from Derner, the valet. He says everybody knew Roberts was allergic to aspirin….he wore one of those medical alert bracelets that stated it. Roberts was really cautious about all the chemicals and medicines he came in contact with...he had almost died during the filming of one of those Space Babe movies because one of the make up artists used a skin cleanser that had a form of the main ingredient of aspirin in it...let's see here...yeah, it was an over the counter cleanser containing salicylic acid, and Roberts went into shock. After that he made sure everyone knew he was allergic to it." Booth rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about what his wife had explained to him earlier in the day. "Bones says that a lot of people with allergies this severe keep something called an epipen with them at all times to try to counteract the allergic reaction if they feel themselves starting to become ill. Derner told the DC Metro detective that Roberts kept several epipens in the house, but, after searching the house thoroughly, it seems like they were nowhere to be found after they discovered the body."

Aubrey nodded and pulled another doughnut out of the box. "So it's a suspicious death. What's the motive? Money? Jealousy between the three guys to be the favorite employee of the boss? Did he treat any of them badly?" Aubrey took another big bite from the doughnut, gesturing with the doughnut as he spoke. "I read some stuff online about this guy Roberts on one of the fan websites." Aubrey grinned a bit, slightly embarrassed at the admission. "I was doing research."

Booth snickered as he sat back in his chair. "Yeah, right….research on the victim before you even knew his name? Seriously? Let me guess….you're a member of the Space Babes movie fan club. Do you go to their conventions, too? I bet you write Space Babes fan fiction in your spare time, right?"

Aubrey laughed out loud, knowing he'd been caught. "I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Booth. Anyway, I guess when Roberts was still making those movies he could be difficult to work with from time to time. He'd do well for a few days, and then disappear for awhile...like two or three weeks at a time...and then he'd show up back on the movie set like it was no big deal, behaving normally as if nothing had happened. Eventually he stopped getting movie roles because of that sort of disappearing act. The guys making the movies said he was too unreliable." Aubrey sat quietly, chewing his doughnut as he considered all the pertinent information they had so far. "Well, it's too bad the old guy died like that. Hey...did you see Roberts in 'Moon Maid Rampage'? Actually, I think his third movie was the best…"Vixens from Venus". I still remember being twelve years old and thinking the vixen queen was a real hottie…." Aubrey's voice trailed off as he relived his childhood memories.

"Hello! Focus, Aubrey!" Booth waved his hand in front of Aubrey's face. "Listen...We don't have time to talk about old movies right now. We've got work to do, so let's concentrate on the case. The press is gonna be all over this story in a few hours, so we gotta be ready to provide them with a statement about Roberts' death. I don't want to call this a murder yet, okay?" Booth rose from his chair and started to pace the office.

"Yeah, okay...I get it, Booth. Maybe if it's murder we can lull the killer into complacency, right?" Aubrey smiled to himself. He was finally beginning to understand how Booth's mind worked.

"Well, maybe...and we don't really know for sure that it's murder...it could be an accident."

"Come on, Booth...you don't believe that. If Dr. B says it's a murder…."

Booth laughed as he grabbed another doughnut. "Yeah, you're right...if she says it's murder...from what I know about the situation so far, I'm pretty sure that Bones is right. This death wasn't caused by an accidental ingestion of something or even by an act of anger. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision to kill this guy. This was a crime that was planned thoroughly and executed with care, with attention to detail. It was cold, logical and practical, and if the Metro detective hadn't been suspicious enough to call in the Jeffersonian, it probably would've passed for an accident. I don't think it's about jealousy. I think it must be about money."

"I'll look into the financials on each one of Roberts' employees….bank accounts, tax returns, investments ...the usual stuff. I guess we better see if there could be other suspects to consider….maybe someone he used to make movies with, or a disgruntled fan. The valet may have some ideas of other people we can talk to."

Booth sat on the corner of his desk and grinned. "What is this "we" stuff, Aubrey?'', Booth asked in a teasing tone of voice. "You're the field agent, so you're going out in the field to investigate...and it seems like you may be out in the field for a long time with this case. I'm the guy in charge, and I get to stay here and direct traffic. So, yeah, look into other suspects." Booth reached over and picked up the file. "Maybe you can get some ideas from the Space Babes fan chat room as well...don't they have some sort of social media page?"

"Ha, ha, Booth...very funny...although, now that you mention it...I'm sure there'll be a lot of chatter on the website once word gets out about the death of Conrad Roberts." Aubrey nodded as he considered the thought. "I'll check the site out...see if there's anything we can gain from it...in a strictly professional capacity, of course."

"Of course." Booth's phone rang. "Hiya Bones… Okay...yeah….Aubrey's sitting right here. Yeah...let me get the file up on the computer….right. Okay, I'll tell him. Yeah. you, too." He hung up and looked across the desk at the younger man. "Bones says the aspirin that killed our victim was dissolved in the apple juice they found in his stomach. The valet was really surprised. He said that aspirin was never kept in the house because Roberts was so allergic to it. Roberts only allowed non-aspirin pain relievers….just a minute." Booth looked over at the notes he had entered into the computer while he was talking to Bones. "Only acetaminophen...Bones says that's tylenol."

"That means whoever gave him the spiked juice must have brought the aspirin into the house with him." Aubrey shook his head. "In my experience, someone who wanted to poison someone else would use cyanide or something like that. I can't imagine a killer deciding to poison someone with aspirin. It must have been someone who knew Roberts….someone who was probably familiar with his house and his personal habits and who knew about how allergic he was to aspirin. I'm betting on one of his three employees."

"Better get on it, Aubrey." Booth smirked as he went back to work on his computer. "Looks like you might miss your meat festival after all. Sorry about that. I guess there's always next year."

"Yeah...great. Okay, I'm going to start by getting warrants for the bank records of the three employees, and I'll talk to the valet first..I think he'd have more of an idea about who went in and out of Roberts' house. I'll keep in touch so you'll know what's going on." Aubrey picked up the doughnut box. "Want the last one?"

"Nah...go ahead. I don't want you to starve. Call me with an update later, okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Aubrey shrugged as he took a bite out of the last doughnut. Booth laughed, rolling his eyes at his colleague.

"You're really gonna eat another doughnut?"

"What? These babies are expensive. I don't want to waste my money…"

Booth answered the phone as Aubrey was leaving. "Got it...right…" Aubrey paused as Booth picked up the file and headed for the door. "Kevin Maxwell is here...I'm gonna go talk to him, and I'll let you know what I find out." As they walked to the elevator, Aubrey checked his watch.

"Three o'clock. I'm gonna request those warrants and go over to the Barbeque festival for the smoke off. I'll see you Monday, Booth."

"Okay….have fun. See you, Monday."


	4. Chapter 4 Evidence and Proof

"Good morning, Dr. Brennan." Cam stood in the door of Brennan's office, holding a file folder. "Do you have a minute?"

Brennan looked up from her computer. "Yes. I was going over some of Conrad Roberts' x-rays again to make sure I didn't miss some details. There appear to be no significant injuries to his skeletal structure, which is unusual given the amount of ecchymosis and edema present. I need to examine the bones again, but because of the lack of other injuries, I feel confident he died from ingesting aspirin."

"Well, actually, that's what I wanted to discuss with you." Cam came into the office and sat down. "Mr. Roberts' lawyer is in my office, demanding that we release the remains to him immediately. He says we have no reason to keep the body any longer, and if we don't release them, he'll get a court order to make us do so. I'd like you to sign off on the release, please, so we can turn the body over to the gentleman and send him on his way."

"That's ridiculous, Cam! The man's death was deemed to be suspicious by the DC Metro police department. We've had only a few actual hours to examine the body since we didn't work yesterday and it's still early on Monday morning. We can't release the body while we're still investigating the man's death…"

"I understand your reasoning, Dr. Brennan, but we really don't have anything that tells us that this is anything that needs to be investigated. Based on the evidence we have it appears to be a tragic accident, not a murder. In looking over the police report this morning, there was no sign of forced entry, and no sign of a struggle. We really have no legal grounds to hold the remains."

"I disagree." Brennan set her jaw as she rearranged the papers on her desk. "I find it highly unlikely and extremely illogical that a person with a severe allergy like the one Mr. Roberts had would allow the allergen in his home where it could be ingested accidentally. I might believe it was an accident if he was away from home when he died, but since he was in his own home…and the fact that there was no forced entry or struggle may mean he was given the aspirin by someone he knew."

"Dr. Brennan, I've been a coroner for many years. I know accidental deaths from allergies when I see them. This is no different than someone who is allergic to peanuts accidentally eating something containing enough peanut protein to trigger a reaction. It's practically impossible to prevent coming in contact with an allergen as common as aspirin, since it's so many different products." Cam's jaw tightened as she became annoyed with Brennan's stubbornness. "I don't understand why it's so difficult for you to accept that this wasn't a murder."

"Dr. Saroyan, normally I would agree with you that the simplest explanation is usually the best, and in this case an accident would be the simplest explanation. However, I just can't accept that this man who almost died when he was exposed to acetylsalicylic acid in a skin cleanser would be so careless as to have that same substance in his home. Taken in combination with the absence of his epipens in the house, and it appears to me that the exposure was deliberately initiated." Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin. "It was not an accident. Maybe suicide, probably murder, but not an accident."

"Dr. Brennan, I'm in charge here, and I'm afraid I must insist that you sign to release the body." Cam rose from her chair and firmly placed the folder on the middle of Brennan's desk.

Brennan, scowling defiantly, shook her head as she stood up and pushed the folder back toward Cam. "I'm not going to sign this form to release these remains."

"Ready for lunch, Bones? Hey, what's going on?" Booth poked his head into Brennan's office. "Is everything okay?" Cam and Brennan were glaring at each other across Brennan's desk in some sort of stand off, obviously disagreeing vehemently with each other. Booth immediately wished he could just turn around and walk away quietly so these two strong willed women could come to mutual terms of their own accord, but it was too late...they'd already seen him.

"Booth...Dr. Saroyan says that Conrad Roberts' lawyer wants us to release his remains. She thinks we should release the body to him, but I disagree with her, because I think he was murdered. If we let the lawyer take his body, we'll never know for sure whether or not it was murder, and a killer may escape justice." Brennan stood with her hands on her hips as she turned to look at her husband. "You need to prevent that from occurring, Booth."

 _Wonderful,_ Booth thought sarcastically. _A real no win situation_ … "Cam…", he began, trying to smooth things over with her. "It's only Monday. The FBI still needs to do some more investigating into the situation before we know for sure what happened. We need more time. Let's wait a few more days….maybe until the end of the week. If we can't find any evidence that points to foul play, then you can go ahead and release the remains. Why is the lawyer in such a hurry, anyway? Are there religious considerations?"

Cam rolled her eyes and shrugged. "No religious reasons that I know of. The lawyer said something about wanting to take Mr. Roberts' remains and having them interred in the Forest Lawn Cemetery in California….you know, where a lot of old time actors are buried. I guess they've already made arrangements for some sort of memorial service."

"Well, I think he's gonna have to change those plans. Mr. Roberts' body stays here until the FBI is satisfied that we know for sure what really happened." Booth's body language made it clear to Cam that it was useless to argue the point.

"Fine." Cam pursed her lips as she turned to leave. "Don't let this drag out too long, Seeley. I don't want the media on my back about why Mr. Roberts' remains can't be interred yet."

"You do your job, Camille, and I'll do mine." Booth gave her a little smile. "We'll be in touch."

Booth turned to his wife after Cam left. "Alright...you've got about a week to figure out what happened, Bones. After that, if you can't find any proof of murder, we'll have to release the remains to the lawyer."

"Science can't be rushed, Booth…" Brennan picked up her purse and jacket. "However, I should be able to have something more definitive when I look through the victim's medical records." She reached out to take his hand. "Thanks for taking my side…."

"Well, I think you're right about this…" Booth gave Brennan a kiss on the cheek. "But, you know, you really shouldn't take advantage of being married to an FBI Special Agent to get what you want around here. I also know how miserable you'd make my life if I chose to agree with Cam instead of you…" He laughed as he tried to dodge her playful slap on his arm. "Okay, okay...let's go to lunch."

oooooooooo

Booth studied Brennan closely as they walked to the diner. Something was keeping her preoccupied...she'd hardly spoken a word to him as they strode along. They entered the restaurant and saw Aubrey waving at them, wanting them to join him. "When I talked to Aubrey this morning he said he had some new information that he'd tell us at lunch." Booth guided her to their favorite table by the window.

Booth and Aubrey dove into their hamburgers while Brennan picked at her salad, seemingly distracted. "You okay there, Bones? You keep moving that piece of lettuce around on your plate, and you haven't stolen any of my fries."

"Oh...I'm sorry. I guess my mind was busy with other things. I just was thinking about how Conrad Roberts died. This case is quite challenging. It's going to be hard to prove that his death was murder instead of an accident, but I know it was...I just need to find some empirical evidence to prove what I think happened."

Booth was incredulous. "Are you going with your gut, Bones?" He and Aubrey both laughed at that absurd thought…..Dr. Temperance Brennan relying on instinct instead of facts.

"Of course not! If this is a murder I feel sure we'll be able to find some solid evidence to prove that. But on a personal level, I think someone with severe allergies similar to what the victim had would be extremely cautious to limit their exposure to a deadly allergen, unless it was a suicide. To me that makes the whole 'accident' scenario implausible."

Aubrey shook his head as he gulped down his pie. "There's almost nothing pointing to murder in the evidence I've seen. The valet's fingerprints were on the glass on the coffee table because he got a glass of apple juice for the decedent every night before bed….you know, to help him swallow all of his pills. The decedent's prints were on the glass because he drank from it. We figure the aspirin was brought into the house from outside but we don't know where it came from."

"All of the men who worked for Roberts have strong alibis and no motives.", Booth sighed. "Nothing much to go on there. The personal assistant spent the night with his fiancee at her parents' house and he was with her from 8 pm Friday night until 3 pm Saturday afternoon. The fiancee's parents corroborated the story. The actor's agent was at a meeting all weekend in Philly. He's got several people who can verify his participation in a meeting at that location. The agent has nothing to gain anyway, because since Roberts is dead he has no more income from him. The valet left to stay with his mother at her house after he finished his duties for Mr. Roberts because she was ill."

"Who inherits the victim's estate?" Brennan asked. "You said you thought there was probably a financial motive, Booth. Did one of these three men have money troubles?"

Aubrey began eating his second piece of pie. "It appears that the estate is split equally between the three guys who worked for Roberts. We're still trying to figure out exactly how much money that is….the bank isn't being very cooperative even with the warrant." Aubrey pulled out his notes. "Here's what I found out in the last couple of days. Mr. Roberts didn't leave any survivors who were immediate family, as far as I can tell, but I'm still checking into it. However, Mr. Roberts had been married when he was a young man. They divorced because he had an affair with an actress that he worked with often...here's her photo...Diana Deeds. She played the main Space Babe in most of those films."

Booth glanced at a picture of an attractive dark haired woman. "Did he ever marry her?"

"No...the affair lasted a little over a year, and then she left Roberts for some guy who did Westerns. But from what I read on the Space Babes fan website, there was rumored to be a child born from the affair…a boy named Harold Roberts. If that was true, Harold would be in his forties, and maybe he decided to look up his old man to check on the status of his inheritance, thinking that the elder Roberts may have had some money stashed away. We're trying to find Harold Roberts, but he could be anywhere, so it's gonna take a while." Aubrey thumbed through the file. "Diana Deeds has a hot temper...she's had several arrests for disturbing the peace, drunk and disorderly….stuff like that out in Los Angeles. She's in her seventies. But this is the interesting part...you know that convention that was in town for the sci fi crowd this past weekend? Imagicon? She was one of the guests of honor, so I went to talk to her yesterday."

"So she was in town when Conrad Roberts died." Booth couldn't resist teasing Aubrey. "When you interviewed her in your official capacity at the convention yesterday, did you manage to get her autograph as well? You know, because we might need to compare handwriting, right?"

"As a matter of fact...yes I did. Flashing an FBI badge helps quite a bit in those cases." Aubrey chuckled a bit. "Not that I would ever misuse my authority, you understand. I talked to Ms. Deeds for quite a while, actually. She thought Conrad Roberts was in fairly good health for a man his age. She was shocked when I told her he had died. I guess he had all the aches and pains that come with advanced age, and he was diabetic…the weird thing was that she was really chatty until I asked her about Harold Roberts. She clammed up in a hurry...refused to discuss him."

Suddenly Brennan interrupted. "You know, the killer didn't actually have to be in the house when the death actually occurred. The apple juice could have been tampered with earlier in the day when the victim was napping or out of the house for some reason. Did the residence where Mr. Roberts lived have any security cameras? We need to find out who was in and out of the house on the day he died."

"I honestly don't know, Bones. I guess we can find out easy enough. Aubrey, do you know when Diana Deeds is leaving town? I'd like to talk to her myself."

"As a matter of fact, I've already made the arrangements. She'll be at Hoover around two."

Brennan finished her salad. "I'm going back to the lab. I'll ask Hodgins to go through the evidence from the house once more to see if there's anything we missed. There weren't many insects but there may be some additional particulate evidence that might give us some information."

Booth rose to leave. "I'll ask the techs to look for the aspirin bottle again. Maybe we'll get lucky this time. We need some luck, especially if we want to prove this is a murder."


	5. Chapter 5 Puzzles

Booth awoke suddenly to a flash of lightning and a loud crack of thunder overhead. The weatherman had been right….the thunderstorms forecasted for tonight had finally arrived. After all the time he'd spent in the deserts of the Middle East, Booth found that he occasionally liked the sound of rain washing against the windows. Another loud, low pitched rumble….Booth paused and held his breath for a minute, listening carefully, but there were no tiny footsteps running toward their bedroom, and no tiny voice saying, "Daddy, I'm scared." Hopefully Christine would sleep soundly through the worst of the thunder and lightning. Booth breathed a deep sigh of contentment and rolled over to put his arm around his wife...but she wasn't next to him in their bed. He glanced toward the bathroom, but there was no light peeking under the door. Sitting up, he called out softly. "Bones?" No answer. He nodded and smiled to himself, knowing where she'd be. He walked down the hall to the family room and found her slumped on the sofa, asleep, with her laptop perched on her lap. He reached down and tapped her gently on the arm. "Bones? Come on back to bed. It's late…"

She rubbed her eyes, stretched and yawned, blinking like a very sleepy owl. "Booth? What time is it?" She looked flustered as she shook her head trying to get her bearings. "I guess I fell asleep while I was working…I had an idea about the Roberts case and I wanted to verify some information..."

"It's one AM. What's going on? Why are you working so late in the evening?" He sat down next to her one the sofa. Obviously something was bothering her. Unfortunately, it wasn't unusual for either one of them to be awakened by nightmares, but it was uncommon for Brennan to still be working at home after midnight.

"I was trying to go over Conrad Roberts' medical records again, but they appear to be incomplete. It's common for a person his age to suffer from atherosclerosis in the tiny blood vessels in the brain, which can impair brain function. If he had hardening of the blood vessels in the brain, it could cause strokes or otherwise impair his cognitive functioning. Perhaps his valet noticed a change in his behavior that would support the suicide theory if we can't prove that this was a murder. The records came to the lab late today by courier, and Cam had them scanned into the Jeffersonian computer system, but there are some inconsistencies….no mention of any kind of heart condition, high blood pressure, or atherosclerosis. Given the fact that he was a diabetic, elderly, and slightly overweight, I would expect any or all of those conditions to be present." Brennan yawned again. "I was trying to get a head start before tomorrow since we're operating on a deadline." Brennan gave her husband an annoyed glance. "Why is Cam so determined to complete this case so quickly? I find that to be highly unusual behavior for her."

"Well, she may be getting some pressure from the big guys upstairs. She has to watch her budget, you know, and the people she answers to may feel like it's a waste of resources to work on this case when the resolution is obvious, at least in their opinion, anyway. They probably think it was just an accident, and they're ready to move on, so they're bugging Cam to move things along as well. It doesn't help that the lawyer is raising a lot of Hell, either."

"But what about the truth? Shouldn't that be more important than money? I'd think it would be important to the Board of Governors that we do our best to solve this case, given that the man used to be a famous movie star." Brennan closed down her laptop. "Cam said the press would be very interested in our progress, but I haven't seen any reporters at the lab…"

"We're taking care of them over at the Hoover. We give out daily press releases on the situation." Booth put his arm around his wife's shoulders. "Right now we're calling the manner of death unclear...in other words we know the cause of death, but not how the allergen was delivered. Pretty clever, huh?" Booth stroked Brennan's hair. "I know you want the truth...I do, too...but sometimes we have to understand that we can only do so much when it comes to figuring out how somebody died." Booth took the laptop from Brennan and placed it on the coffee table. "Right now, I can think of much better things to do at 1 AM, and very few of them require a computer."

"Really?" Brennan turned to her husband with a sly smile. "Can you give me an example?" They both jumped as a big clap of thunder sounded overhead. Brennan snuggled closer to her husband. "Maybe a different sort of thunder and lightning?" She giggled as he began to nibble her ear.

"Maybe...maybe even an earthquake or two." He stood up and took her hand, pulling her up off the sofa. "I think we should go back to bed and see what other kinds of rumblings we can cause." Another clap of thunder echoed through the house, causing the windows to rattle. "This storm is making me feel very romantic." He drew Brennan close for a kiss. "Rain on the roof...a beautiful woman in my arms...who could ask for more?"

"I think your idea is excellent, Booth." She kissed him again, reaching under his shirt to rub his back. "Perhaps that will help me relax and I'll be able to sleep better."

"Perhaps..." Booth gave his wife a wink and a tiny charm smile "...but it may be a while before you actually get to go to sleep, Bones…."

oooooooooo

Tuesday was a wet and dreary day. Aubrey stood under an awning and shook the rain off his coat, checking his phone as he entered the diner for lunch. He looked around, and finding Booth and Brennan at their usual table by the window, he came to join them. He wore a grim expression, grumbling as he nodded to the waitress bringing his coffee and a menu. "I just finished talking to Conrad Roberts' lawyer: Charles F. Randall, Esquire. He's one smarmy bastard. He says he's going to try to get an injunction to prevent the bank from turning over all the financial records for Roberts, including checking and savings accounts. He says they're not relevant to the investigation of Roberts' death, and he isn't going to turn them over unless he's required to do so by a special court order." Aubrey smirked as he shook his head. "The guy must have gotten his law degree from Priceco if he thinks that's going to keep me from accessing the decedent's financial information. I warned Randall that he'll be biting off more than he can chew if he doesn't turn over those records, but he still refused, so I'm calling his bluff. I'm gonna turn him over to Miz Julian. I'm sure by the time she's through with Mr. Randall, he'll want to give us everything we want, including Roberts' shirt size and and how many pairs of shoes he had if we ask for it. "

Brennan handed a file to Aubrey. "It appears the lawyer or someone else has also purged the medical file. Based on the gaps in the dated entries, there appear to be several missing pages, including the list of prescription medications Roberts was taking. There is mention of his asthma, his allergies, and his diabetes, but nothing else. A diabetic man his age should be checked for heart disease and high blood pressure on a regular basis, but that there isn't any sort of information pertaining to any sort of tests for those conditions in this file. Isn't this sort of tampering with medical records a violation of the law, Booth? Can't you bring Randall in and find out what he's hiding from us?"

Booth shrugged. "Maybe...It does appear that he's impeding a federal murder investigation. Maybe Caroline and I can tag team him in an interrogation...you know, rattle his cage a bit. Aubrey's right...by the time Caroline's done grilling him, he'll be begging to tell us anything we want to know." Booth took a sip of his coffee as he nodded towards Aubrey's notes. "Any more information on our three musketeers, Aubrey?"

"The valet seems to be the most loyal of all of them. He'd been with the victim about 15 years, sharing the duplex all that time. Interesting fact: Derner's a registered nurse so he can administer prescription drugs as necessary. He was basically on call for times when Roberts needed help with daily living tasks. He took care of giving Roberts his medications as well as helping him fix meals, and helping the guy bathe and dress...kind of like a live in health care professional. Derner seems like he was pretty attached to the decedent...he was still distraught about Roberts' death when I talked to him." Aubrey ate a bite of pie. "What about Maxwell? Anything interesting from his interview, Booth?"

"Not really." Booth looked over his note cards as he told Aubrey what he'd found out. "Maxwell worked for Roberts about five years as a sort of secretary. He handled the guy's correspondence and paid the bills...did the grocery shopping...ordered his prescriptions... stuff like that. He got the job because his grandfather and Roberts went to school together. Maxwell's engaged to a girl from a wealthy family so he doesn't really seem to have a financial motive. He also didn't really seem too broken up about his boss dying. He'd planned to quit soon and he already has a new job lined up. I guess he was tired of doing grunt work."

Aubrey nodded. "And you said yourself that Reese, the agent, loses money if Roberts dies. His alibi seems strong. Everybody I talked to says he was at the meeting from Thursday evening until Sunday afternoon. He said he didn't find out that Roberts had died until he drove over to the duplex to tell him about what went on at the meeting. They were planning some sort of film festival for sci fi buffs. What about Diana Deeds?"

Booth shook his head. "Nah...I think she's too impulsive to pull off a cold, calculating murder like this...she's more of a 'hit a guy with a baseball bat in a fit of anger' kind of woman. She said her affair with Roberts ended back in the day because, like you said earlier, Aubrey...the guy would go off for days or weeks at a time and no one would know where he was, or if he was even alive, and then show up again and expect to pick up where they'd left off." He ate a bite of pie. "She also told me about her son, Harold. I guess she had to commit him to some sort of psychiatric hospital. She tried to have Harold live with her, but his mental illness was too severe…he had some sort of paranoid delusions...and he died there about three years ago. Ms. Deeds said she tried to contact Roberts to let him know about their son's death, but he never responded to her letter or her phone calls...hmmm….I should ask Kevin Maxwell about what happened to that correspondence."

Aubrey nodded in agreement. "I'm gonna try Reese one more time...I want to find out exactly when he left DC for the Philly meeting, especially since Dr. B. said the juice could've been tampered with earlier in the day. Was there any security footage of the duplex, Booth?"

"Nope….the camera over the door was a fake. Bones, didn't you say that the techs from the Jeffersonian found some plastic gloves and an aspirin bottle had been hidden behind some loose bricks in the cellar wall? Why would anyone go to the trouble to hide those things there? Aspirin is so common you could practically hide it in plain sight."

"Yes, but remember, Booth, the valet said they never kept aspirin the house. Mr. Roberts' rules were explicit, so whoever brought the aspirin in must have hidden it there. The strange thing is that the person who brought the aspirin in must have been very familiar with the house to find such an obscure hiding place back in a dark corner of the cellar where there's almost no light. The team that found those things dusted the bricks and the opening in the wall for fingerprints, but the person who placed the aspirin in the niche didn't leave any behind. Cam is going to see if she can get some prints from inside the gloves, and Hodgins is checking to see if the aspirin in the bottle matches the aspirin in the apple juice. We already know the apple juice in the decedent's stomach was identical to the apple juice in the refrigerator."

Booth grimaced slightly tapped his fingers on the table nervously. "I think we must be missing something obvious. It's so obvious we're ignoring it. Okay….let's go through it again…."


	6. Chapter 6 Records

It was early Wednesday morning at the Hoover Building. Charles F. Randall, Esq., sat quietly at the table, nervously looking around the bleak interrogation room. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Criminal law was so tawdry...so messy...this was definitely not his style. He glanced down at his perfectly manicured nails. He didn't want to dirty his hands by dealing with less than savory clients. That was certainly _not_ where the money was to be made in practicing law. The firm in which he was the most junior of the junior partners handled inheritance law. If it had to do with wills, trusts, and probate cases, he was the man to see, but he wanted nothing to do with criminals. Even though he was young, he had plenty of experience dealing with the most intricate issues that often occurred when the disposition of a deceased person's estate was necessary. He knew he was very good at his job, and no one working for the FBI was going to convince him otherwise.

He took out his phone and, using the mirror app, checked his appearance again. His short blonde hair was combed precisely into place, his expensive red silk foulard tie was perfectly tied, and his navy Gucci suit was perfectly tailored to his exact specifications. He looked to be every inch the successful lawyer that he was. He smiled smugly at his reflection as he put his phone away. The poor feebs had no idea...Charles F. Randall, Esq. was a ferocious tiger when it came to looking after the interests of his clients.

Still….he wasn't used to being on this side of the table. He was used to asking the pointed questions instead of being required to answer them. Shifting in his chair, he began to nervously tap his fingers on the table. Knowing there must be someone on the other side of the darkened window, he called out. "Hello? Hello….hey, is anybody listening? Can we start now? Come on...I have work to do….the McElhaney trust case is going to court day after tomorrow, and I still have research to do...Anybody?"

Booth and Caroline Julian were on the other side of the two way mirror, smiling slyly as they observed their 'guest'.

"It sure didn't take long for that scrawny little pencil neck to get nervous." Caroline nodded as they walked around to the interrogation room. "Maybe this visit won't take too long after all."

"I hope not...I'm not sure how much of Boy Lawyer I can stand." Booth rolled his eyes as they watched the man preening again. "He might make lots of new 'friends' if he has to spend a lot of time in jail…"

The door of the interrogation room swung open abruptly and two people entered. The man gruffly introduced himself as Special Agent Booth and then introduced the woman as Caroline Julian, working as a prosecutor for the federal government. Agent Booth threw a file folder on the table, and after they pulled the chairs out noisily, they both sat down abruptly and proceeded to stare silently at the young man opposite of them.

Randall sat quietly for a few seconds under the withering glares of the people sitting across from him. Finally, he couldn't take it any more. "Why are you staring at me? Don't you have any questions? Didn't I have to come down here to answer questions about Conrad Roberts? That's what the agent on the phone said...an Agent Aubrey, if I remember correctly. What do you people want?" Booth and Caroline continued to stare at the young lawyer impassively. "Look, I can explain about not releasing his financial records when the warrant was presented and why I requested that court order…."

Booth and Caroline turned to each other and nodded slightly. Finally, Caroline spoke up. "Agent Booth here doesn't take kindly to people who keep him from doing his job." She pointedly glanced at a scowling Booth. "As a matter of fact, he hates it. It makes him surly. I had to calm him down before we came here, because I didn't want him to tear up your pretty suit." As if on cue, Booth pounded the table with his fists and leaned forward menacingly in his chair, causing Randall to flinch. "So here's the thing, Cherie...impeding a federal investigation can get you big boy prison time…."

"Five years.", Booth grunted. "I'm gonna ask for him to get five years and a fine of 100,000 dollars.. I'm tired and angry from all the extra work I had to do because this jackass is impeding my investigation, and I want payback. Five years, a fine, and disbarment…."

"What?!", Randall squeaked. "Five years for following my client's wishes as spelled out in his last will and testament? That hardly seems fair."

Caroline pursed her lips and paused slightly before addressing Randall. "Well, stop me if you've heard this before, Mr. Randall...life isn't fair. Following your deceased client's wishes gives you absolutely no authority to break federal law or to impede a federal investigation." She turned and looked at the man sitting next to her. "What do you think, Booth? Is five years long enough?" She turned back and cast a cold glare at Randall. "He might grow to love prison, what with all those new buddies he's gonna have...a cute little new guy like this one is bound to attract a lot of attention from those fun loving boys at the federal pen, right, Booth?"

Booth was practically snarling at this point. "I don't care...I want those records, Caroline, and if we have to give him ten years, it'll be worth it. I'm gonna look over his file and see if we can find anything else to charge him with…"

"Wait...I can give you all the records...Mr. Roberts asked me to destroy his financial records after his death, but I haven't done so yet because his will hasn't gone through probate. He also asked me to burn his diaries, journals, and all of his old correspondence, but I can't find them. I think Kevin Maxwell, his personal assistant, must have stolen those things with the idea of writing an expose' or some sort of bastardized memoir about Mr. Roberts. However, I can bring the financials tomorrow, along with a copy of his will…"

Caroline held up her hand to stop the man's sputtering. "Why did the decedent ask you to get rid of his financial records? Was he hiding stuff from the tax boys?"

"I don't know...he never explained it. He just left a list of records that needed to be destroyed when he passed away, and because I'm his lawyer, I felt like it was my duty to follow those instructions." Randall sniffled noisily. "I was just doing my job...it didn't seem like a problem at the time. People make all sorts of weird requests like that in their wills…"

"If your client had died from natural causes, no one would've noticed." Caroline shrugged her shoulders as she looked at Booth. "Unfortunately, Agent Booth thinks Mr. Roberts' death was suspicious and he has to investigate to make sure there was no foul play. Too bad. I hope you can find something else to do after you're disbarred…"

Booth glared at the young man again. "The medical records? Did you clean those out, too? I want all of it…every last page."

Randall squirmed as he began to melt under the intense stares of his interrogators. "I don't know who tampered with the medical records you received, but I'll make sure the doctor sends over another set. They'll have it backed up somewhere, I promise. You've got to believe me. I had nothing to do with that...if I bring you everything I have, can we work something out? I think this is just a terrible misunderstanding…"

"Hmmph." Caroline lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes, the look of disdain for Charles Randall obvious on her face. "Maybe a misunderstanding to you, but Agent Booth is still trying to determine the exact manner of Mr. Roberts' death. What do you think, Booth? Wanna make a deal with this poor excuse of a lawyer?"

"I need everything you've got on Conrad Roberts brought to my office by 3 PM tomorrow afternoon, and we might be able to make a deal." Booth leaned back in his chair, still glaring at the young man. "That's the best I can do."

"Yes sir. I'll have it here by 3 PM, if not earlier. Thank you, Agent Booth….Ms. Julian...I appreciate it…"

Booth and Caroline stood up together to leave. "I'll be waiting. Don't be late.", Booth warned. They left Charles F. Randall Esq. sitting at the table, perspiring profusely as he pondered the situation. The 'ferocious tiger' of a lawyer had been reduced to a whimpering kitten…

As they walked down the hall to Booth's office, Caroline turned to Booth and smiled as she gestured toward the interrogation room. "Good job with the tag team in there. Anyone ever tell you you're cute when you play bad cop? The snarl was a nice touch."

"Thanks….I learned that from dealing with the squints…."

oooooooooo

Booth looked up as Aubrey stood in the doorway. "Come on in. Cam was able to pull some prints from the gloves found with the aspirin bottle." Booth handed the report to Aubrey. "They belong to Conrad Roberts."

"What?!..." Aubrey stood gaping at Booth in disbelief. "I don't believe it. So let me get this straight... the victim smuggles aspirin into his own home even though he knows it could kill him? That doesn't make sense. If he did bring it in, why go to the trouble of hiding the bottle and the gloves in a hole in the wall down in the cellar? Why not leave it in the medicine cabinet? It just seems fishy, Booth."

Brennan entered the office and sighed as she sat down opposite of Booth. "The victim's fingerprints were found on the apple juice bottle along with those of the valet. It appears that Roberts really did commit suicide. He must've ground the aspirin and spiked the juice himself, but I don't know why he'd hide the aspirin bottle. And if he did grind the aspirin himself, the possibility remains that he would have exposed himself to the allergen in an amount large enough to kill himself, and he wouldn't have needed to put it in the apple juice to complete the suicide."

Booth shook his head as he rubbed his chin. "This wasn't a regular suicide….no way. If the cause of death had been too many sleeping pills, I'd say suicide was possible, but this extreme shock thing is just too weird." Booth pointed to a picture he passed to Aubrey. "This is a picture of the living room where Roberts had been found. Look...the victim was found on the floor face down a few steps away from his recliner, which says to me that he was trying to save himself or get some help...like maybe he was looking for one of those epipens. If he wanted to commit suicide by poisoning himself he would've probably been found in his bed or in his chair." Looking at the pictures of the crime scene again, Booth pointed to the coffee table. "See? The glass was knocked over and the newspapers are scattered around. Roberts may not have struggled with another person, but he didn't give up without trying to survive. He knew something was wrong and he was trying to do something about it."

Aubrey shook his head as he handed the photos to Brennan. "I get what you're saying, Booth, and I know it's crazy, but what else could it be? I mean, sleeping pills would've made more sense if the guy wanted to commit suicide, but maybe he couldn't get any and he just used what he had on hand."

"No…", Brennan said firmly. "That's not it. Aspirin wouldn't have been something he had on hand in his house...not with the severity of his allergy. It had to be brought into the home for the specific purpose of causing this man's death."

Leaning back in his chair, Booth gazed out the office window. "This was an awful way to die. I mean, If you wanted to cause yourself this much pain, why not shoot yourself instead? I'm not buying the suicide thing. Somebody wanted the guy to suffer. There's gotta be another explanation for the prints in the gloves."

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. "Hey, Booth. This set of medical records for your victim just arrived for you and Dr. Brennan."

"Thanks, Charlie." Brennan took the file and began looking through it immediately. "Hey Bones, when you find the list of the medicines he was taking, see if there's anything that might have indicated he was depressed."

"According to these records, which appear to be somewhat more complete than the last file, the medications he took were for his diabetes, which would be expected given his age. However, something still doesn't seem right..." Brennan thumbed through the papers in the file. "Still no mention of blood thinners or blood pressure medication and no cholesterol lowering drugs." Brennan's frustration was apparent as she tossed the file on Booth's desk. "I'm annoyed by our lack of information. Someone is hiding something from us."

Booth chuckled slightly. "You're going with your gut again about those medical records, aren't you, Bones? Why would anyone hide his health concerns? Maybe we should just go visit his doctor, and then you can ask all the questions you want. I'll see what I can do about that."

Brennan pointed toward the file. "Mr. Roberts should have records from his General Practitioner or an Internist, depending on who was prescribing the medications for his diabetes, and there should be information from his cardiologist since he had congestive heart failure and a family history of strokes. This record is still incomplete."

"Kevin Maxwell is coming to the Hoover this afternoon, and we're gonna have a little chat." Booth accessed some information on his computer. "It says here that the Techs couldn't find any of Conrad Roberts' diaries, letters, or journals when they searched the house, and I think Caroline and I put enough of the fear of God into the lawyer that he's telling the truth when he says he doesn't have them. That makes Maxwell the logical choice to have them, and it's possible he may know something about the medical records,too, since he was Roberts' personal assistant. Derner, the valet, was listed Roberts' HIPPA form as a person with access to the records, so maybe Maxwell was, too. Let's check on that."

"I talked to Derner, the valet again this morning." Aubrey said. "He said when he talked to Roberts about taking that night off...you know, when the death occurred... Roberts sounded a bit odd but nothing that would indicate a real problem. He said Roberts could be really tempermental, so he didn't think much of it." Aubrey's phone rang. "Really? Name? Great!" Aubrey hung up and rose to leave. "That was Derner. Gotta go. Based on what he just told me, I think I know what happened to Roberts." He turned and was out the door in a flash, leaving Booth and Brennan in stunned silence.

Finally Brennan turned to her husband. "Booth, why did Aubrey rush off like that? He didn't tell us where he was going…."

Booth smiled at Brennan's surprise. "I think maybe he learned from the best, Bones, because that's what you usually do when you think you know who the murderer is….."


	7. Chapter 7 Questions

Booth was leaning back in his chair, trying to relax as he gazed out the window of his office. He sighed as he once again ran through all the information he had about the Roberts case. They were running out of time to prove that the man's death was more than an accident. If they didn't get a break in the case today he'd have to let Cam release the body tomorrow. He sat upright again, accessing the case file on his computer. He knew that Bones was right...it seemed obvious to him that Conrad Roberts' death was no accident, but there just wasn't enough evidence of that to withhold the remains from burial any longer. It was possible that the truth might be buried with Roberts, even after all of the work they'd done to uncover what had really happened.

He read through his notes and the transcripts of his interview with Kevin Maxwell. The personal assistant was obnoxious...an opportunist who took advantage of his employer's age and failing health to make a buck. What a nasty bastard…he deserved whatever jail time he he might get.

Booth looked up as he heard a knock on the doorframe of his office. "Hey, Aubrey. Come on in. I was just looking over my notes from my interview with Kevin Maxwell. He's a sorry son of a bitch. We found out that he's been stealing things from Conrad Roberts and selling them on websites that cater to people who collect movie memorabilia and the fans of Roberts' old movies."

"Really...so the diaries and letters…he stole all that stuff so he could sell it?"

"Yeah, and pictures and other small pieces of Space Babes memorabilia, like small props and other stuff from the movies….just a few things at a time so Roberts wouldn't miss the stuff. There was stuff from his old movies stored in boxes in the bottom of his closet and in curio cabinets all over his house. I guess both Roberts' memory and his vision were failing, and Maxwell figured he could make some money by getting rid of a few things here and there without their absence being noticed. He was right...people who collect those things are willing to pay a lot of money for the items. It would've worked, too, if he hadn't gotten desperate." Booth crossed his arms across his chest and looked at his computer again. "Maxwell went broke trying to keep up with his fiancee's taste for the finer things in life. He borrowed some money from a questionable source to buy her a very expensive engagement ring, and when he couldn't repay the loan, the source threatened to break his girlfriend's legs. She's a dancer...it would've been the end of her career. Anyway, after Roberts died, Maxwell ransacked the house and found all sorts of things to sell online. FBI cyber techs did some computer forensics work and traced the sales back to him, so now he's in deep trouble with the Feds for selling stolen property."

Aubrey grinned at Booth. "I knew you and Ms. Julian were both good interrogators, but how'd you get the guy to spill all that information? Seems like he wrote himself a ticket to prison."

Booth grinned as he rose from behind his desk and picked up his jacket. "I'm not sure I want to give you all my FBI special agent secrets. I like being the Special Agent in Charge, and I don't want you to steal my job, Aubrey." Both men laughed as they left Booth's office. "Anyway...first we accused Maxwell of Roberts' murder. We have circumstantial evidence that it was someone who knew him, and we made it sound like we thought Maxwell had motive, means, and opportunity. I peppered him with all sorts of questions, and he panicked...he said he might be a thief, but he was no murderer, and then he spilled his guts about stealing the stuff and selling it on the internet. He was also worried about the loan sharks, so Caroline kinda cut him a deal...he turns state's evidence on those guys and maybe he gets a lighter sentence in a medium security prison."

"Clever, but why would the FBI care about what Maxwell stole anyway?" Aubrey shrugged at Booth, a confused look on his face. "Isn't that more of DC Metro's concern?"

"Think about it, Aubrey….the sale of stolen goods on the internet? Of course, we'd be interested if the stuff he sold crossed state lines." Aubrey nodded, slightly embarrassed...of course he should've known that…

"There's the woman I was telling you about, Booth." Aubrey nodded toward the room ahead of them. "I think this is gonna be the break we need."

Booth and Aubrey walked toward the glass-walled conference room where a slender middle aged woman sat nervously thumbing through a stack of papers. Booth tilted his head slightly as he studied her. "That's her, huh? She looks harmless enough. You really think she's the whole key to what happened to Conrad Roberts?"

Aubrey nodded resolutely. "I pretty sure she knows what really happened to the victim. We know that Reese, the actor's agent has an ironclad alibi. He really was where he said he was when Roberts died, and he has no motive. After I convinced Will Derner, the valet, that we really didn't think he was to blame for the death of his boss, he gave me lots of details about what was really going on with Conrad Roberts. It seems like there was a major cover up about some health issues." Aubrey grinned as he turned to Booth. "All the research I did on the Space Babe fan websites paid off. When I compared what the valet said with some of the postings there, things started to make sense. I conferred with our new psychologist, Dr. Ling, and she agrees with me."

"Okay, then, Aubrey. Let's see if you've got any interrogation skills of your own. I want you to take the lead on the interrogation. You have a lot of knowledge about Roberts and his career, and that information might be valuable as you question her."

"Alright, Booth...let's go." Aubrey pushed open the sliding glass door and the agents entered the room. "Dr. Tamara Ellingson? I'm Agent Aubrey and this is Agent Booth. We need to discuss Conrad Roberts with you. We feel you may have some information that might lead us to understand what caused his death."

Dr. Ellingson glared at the two men standing across the table from her. "I'm afraid I can't help you. I have nothing to say about the matter. Now, if you don't mind…" She started to rise from her chair, but Aubrey's stony expression as he blocked the door stopped her, and she sat down again. "I'm sure I don't have any information relative to this case, Agent Aubrey."

Aubrey stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at her. "Dr. Ellingson, I haven't had anything to eat for hours, and I tend to be irritable when I'm hungry. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to become more irritable, would you? So I'll need you to tell me everything you know about the situation, and then I'll decide if it's relevant." Aubrey and Booth both sat down at the table, and Aubrey opened a folder. "To begin with…. Why didn't you contact us when you found out Conrad Roberts had died? You're listed as his personal physician as well as his psychiatrist, and you knew the FBI was investigating his death as suspicious. It seems to me you were actively impeding a federal investigation, especially when you removed important information from his medical records before they were sent to us. That can earn a person jail time." Aubrey looked over at Booth, who nodded in agreement.

Dr. Ellingson shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant, but she couldn't make eye contact with either agent. "It was a matter of doctor/patient confidentiality. There were things about Conrad's health that I wanted to keep out of the newspapers and off of television and the fan websites."

"Nope." Aubrey shook his head. "That's not gonna fly, Doc. Doctor/patient confidentiality ends with the patient's death."

"I thought it'd be an embarrassment. Conrad had managed to keep his illness somewhat under control while he was alive, and I didn't feel it was appropriate to expose his illness to the public after his death. It didn't seem necessary…." A tear rolled down the doctor's cheek. "He really was such a kind man. I didn't want his reputation damaged by the revelation that he had a mental illness. I didn't want to expose his memory to ridicule."

Booth looked at the file. "Dr. Ling, the FBI psychologist, says that Roberts had been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder. Did he actually have multiple personalities?"

"Yes." Dr. Ellingson sighed and closed her eyes as she continued. "There were 3 distinct identities that existed within Conrad's psyche: Conrad, Roger, and Freddie. The identities were like 3 aspects of Conrad's personality, but they were never successfully integrated into a single identity. We all have different aspects of our personalities but normally our personalities stay intact instead being fragmented like Conrad's was."

"Did the different identities know about each other?" Aubrey asked.

"Conrad, Roger, and Freddie all knew about each other, but they didn't always get along with each other. Conrad and Roger could coexist successfully. The main issue between those two identities was that Conrad was an extroverted actor, and Roger was painfully shy…." Dr. Ellingson sniffled a little bit as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Roger would often try to run away when he got scared, but there was no place to go.…"

Aubrey nodded and turned to Booth. "That might explain why Roberts would disappear from time to time while he was making movies…"

Dr. Ellingson smiled weakly as she wadded up her tissue. "Yes, that's true. When Conrad was younger, he often had a hard time getting Roger to cooperate when it was time to make a movie, but when Conrad retired from acting things got better between the two of them, and they could coexist peacefully."

"Do you know anything about Conrad's son, Dr. Ellingson?" Booth found a page in the file and handed it to her. "His son Harold died about three years ago. It says here that Harold suffered from paranoid delusions."

"I know that Ms. Deeds, Harold's mother, has always blamed Conrad for her son's mental illness. She thinks Harold inherited it from his father, but the two illnesses weren't related in this case. Conrad suffered a severe emotional trauma as a child. He was present when his younger brother was struck and killed by a truck. Conrad was supposed to be watching his brother, Roger, but the little boy ran out into the street into the path of the vehicle. To compensate for the pain and loss, Conrad's mind allowed Roger's personality to live on until he became a large part of Conrad's own identity."

Aubrey handed Dr. Ellingson a box of tissues and waited as she regained control of her emotions before he continued his interrogation. "Tell us about Freddie."

"The Freddie aspect of Conrad's personality appeared about 15 years ago after Conrad was involved in a car accident which killed a friend. Conrad had been driving when his car crossed into an intersection and they were...I believe the expression is T-boned... by another car. Conrad's car was struck on the passenger side. Conrad was uninjured but his friend died instantly. His anger and guilt manifested as Freddie. Freddie hated both Conrad and Roger."

Booth interrupted. "Did Conrad know that Freddie hated him?"

Dr. Ellingson nodded. "Yes. During our DID therapy sessions I tried to explain to Conrad many times that Freddie hated him, but he refused to even acknowledge Freddie's existence, which caused Freddie to become extremely angry." Dr. Ellingson looked at Aubrey with teary eyes. "I realize this is all difficult to understand...it can be very confusing. I was also able to talk to Freddie from time to time. I tried to make Freddie understand that he and Conrad could co- exist...but he was a vile, hateful identity. He was aware of Conrad's disdain for him, and he tried to make Conrad's life miserable. Freddie wanted to eliminate the Conrad and Roger aspects of the personality so he could exist alone."

"Can you give us an example, doctor?" Aubrey asked. "Do you think it was deliberate?"

"Oh, yes. Freddie was always very deliberate in his actions. I know this is hard to believe, but it's true. Sometimes Freddie would pretend to be Conrad and then do embarrassing things, like making racial slurs, or inappropriate sexual remarks to women. Also, for some reason, Freddie thought Conrad owed him a large sum of money, so Freddie would steal money from Conrad. He'd spend lavish amounts of money on things that Conrad wouldn't normally want or need, like hand tailored clothes, expensive champagne, art work...things like that. Freddie also used prostitutes from time to time." Dr. Ellingson dabbed her eyes again, and shook her head. "The Freddie aspect of Conrad's personality was also emotionally unstable...prone to extreme rage."

Aubrey began to grasp what the psychiatrist was telling him. He looked over at Booth, who'd been fascinated by the doctor's story. "So it was probably Freddie who ordered the lawyer to destroy the financial records…"

"I think you're right, Aubrey." Looking at the file again, Booth said, "Freddie is described as intelligent, detail oriented, calculating, and vindictive. Do you think it would be possible for Freddie to commit murder? Wouldn't he realize that if he killed Conrad, he'd be killing himself also, Dr. Ellingson?"

Dr. Ellingson closed her eyes and sighed as she realized what Booth meant. "Freddie viewed himself as completely separate from Conrad and Roger physically as well as in personality. Given what I know about the identity named Freddie, I think it's highly probable that he carefully planned and executed Conrad's murder without realizing he'd be destroying himself in the process."

"It explains why Conrad's prints were on the apple juice bottle and in the gloves, Aubrey. Freddie knew Conrad was deathly allergic to aspirin. He could get into the house because it was his house, and he knew where to hide the bottle because it was his own cellar. No one would suspect anything because so few people knew Conrad had Dissociative Identity Disorder. Freddie was the one Derner talked to when Derner wanted to go visit his mother because Freddie wanted Conrad to be alone. The murder method fits Freddie's personality. I think that's exactly what happened...Freddie planned and carried out Conrad's murder, not realizing he'd kill himself as well."

"Damn…". Aubrey rubbed his chin as he looked from Dr. Ellingson to Booth. "So what does that mean for our investigation? Does this mean case closed? Is it suicide or murder?"

"I don't know the answer to any of those questions, Aubrey.", said Booth as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. "No wonder Bones hates psychology so much..."


	8. Chapter 8 Answers

Booth was in a hurry as he walked into Brennan's office. "Knock, knock. Hiya, Bones. Are you ready to go to dinner? We have reservations for Rigoletto's for seven tonight, remember? Man, I'm starving. I've been thinking about their veal parmesan and spaghetti all afternoon."

"I'll be ready in about five minutes. I just want to finish this paragraph on my paper. Angela and Hodgins are going to take Hank and Christine for the evening, so we can enjoy a leisurely dinner." Brennan typed a few more words on her keyboard. "What happened at the coroner's inquest into the Roberts case today?"

"After hearing all the evidence we had, the judge finally ruled his death a suicide. She said that all of the identities were part of the same person and part of that person intentionally caused his own death. I guess it makes as much sense as anything else about this case." Booth sat down on the sofa in Brennan's office. "I really felt sorry for the guy. I mean, how can you protect yourself from a situation like that...one part of yourself trying to kill another part of yourself, and there's nothing you can do about it, right?"

She nodded in agreement. "It was a difficult situation, Booth, and it was, perhaps, made even more difficult because of the stigma society still places on individuals who have mental illnesses. It's almost as if people still believe that these illnesses are caused by evil spirits or by a curse of some sort. If Conrad Roberts hadn't felt it was necessary to hide his illness he might have been able to get more intensive treatment and his disease may have remained under control instead of leading to his death." Brennan grimaced slightly as she glanced over what she had typed. "What's going to happen to his physician?"

"It seems like Dr. Ellingson did everything she could to help the guy, but it just wasn't enough, I guess. Caroline decided not to prosecute the doctor for withholding evidence from the medical records since she was trying to protect her patient's reputation, and it wasn't done with malice, and in the long run, nobody really got hurt by it. I'm okay with Caroline's decision about that."

Booth thumbed through an anthropology journal as he waited for his wife to complete her work. "I guess Roberts' personal assistant, Kevin Maxwell, is gonna get 5 years for the theft of that Space Babe memorabilia and the sale of stolen property via the internet...he was lucky he could work out a deal with Caroline. He turned state's evidence on the organized crime gang that the loan sharks were part of, so he didn't get 10 years…" Booth tossed the journal back on the table. "Did I tell you what else I found out? The cyber tech guys found a lot of stuff that the Freddie alter ego had written about Conrad. He'd been going to the public library to use the computers, and then he stored what he'd written on the cloud. It was some really crazy shit...wild, threatening letters, ravings, plots to murder him...the whole nine yards. Dr. Ellingson was right when she said the Freddie personality was emotionally unstable…criminally insane is probably closer to the truth."

"I find this whole scenario to be illusive." Brennan shut down her computer and turned to her husband shaking her head. "The whole scenario really is quite illogical."

"Illusive? What the Hell does that word even mean?" Booth rolled his eyes as he grinned at his wife. "Sometimes I think you use weird words like that just to bug me, don't you, Bones? And of course this situation isn't logical..."

"Illusive means pertaining to fantasy. Psychiatrists and psychologists can't even agree among themselves about whether or not dissociate identity disorder is a real illness or what treatment for it is the most effective, if any. Currently the recommended treatment is called talk therapy, because there are no medications to treat it. It doesn't appear to be a brain chemistry or a brain wave malfunction. I find it hard to believe people can have multiple personalities. It seems quite unlikely that situation could occur in reality. It seems more like something someone might put in a work of science fiction."

"Dr. Ellingson said it wasn't like there were actually three different people inside Conrad Roberts, Bones, but more like his personality had fragmented into three different distinct parts because he was under so much emotional stress during his life. She also said that most of us have multiple aspects of our personalities but those aspects are usually well integrated with each other so it doesn't bother us the way it did our victim. Conrad Roberts started out life as an emotionally healthy person, but he had some severe traumas occur in his life, and it caused a huge amount of damage to his view of himself as a person." Booth rose from the sofa and moved to sit in a chair in front of Brennan's desk. "His personality couldn't take it any more, so he fell apart under the pressure."

Brennan shook her head. "It still doesn't make sense. Both you and I have had severe emotional traumas in our lives, and we didn't develop fractured personalities or different identities. All this case proves is that psychology is a pseudoscience with no real basis in empirical data."

"But we coped with our own emotional traumas in other ways, right? I was addicted to gambling…" Booth reached across the desk and covered Brennan's hand with his. "You tried to isolate yourself emotionally from other people." He smiled as he spoke gently to his wife. "I know you don't like to think of it that way, Bones, but we were both dealing with our traumas as best we could, just like Roberts was trying to do. To me, it seems that for some reason we were both just more successful at coping with the bad stuff that happened to us than he was."

Brennan looked up into her husband's warm brown eyes and smiled back at him. "Perhaps, because Mr. Roberts lived alone and had no family to love him, he couldn't cope as well as we are able to do. After all, we have each other for support, don't we?"

"You're right, Bones...I know that you've helped me cope with a lot of emotional stress, and I'm so thankful for that. I really don't know how I would've survived everything I've been through in my life without your love."

"And you've helped me as well, Booth. I'm no longer afraid to engage with other people emotionally. I've become a much stronger person because of your love for me, and I'm grateful for that." Brennan began to clear her desk for the evening. "But what I don't understand is this: if the decedent truly had multiple personalities or identities, what would've triggered one of those identities to become murderous? It's almost like one day he was fine, and the next day a part of him is planning a murder in detail."

"Remember what you said about atherosclerosis and the small blood vessels in his brain being clogged? His doctor thinks the disease in his blood vessels combined with his age and health problems had something to do with it. He'd been able to maintain control of his dissociative identity disorder using talk therapy up until the last few months, when he had a small stroke. Things seemed to go to Hell after that. The Freddie aspect of his personality became almost impossible to control, even with intense therapy."

Brennan picked up her coat and purse. "Okay, Booth, I'm ready…." She started to walk toward the office door, but turned as Booth hesitated.

He grinned at his wife as he innocently stated what was on his mind. "Okay, we can go, but first, could you explain one more thing to me? I know you really believed that Roberts' death was a murder. You were absolutely positive, remember? I guess it doesn't bother you that you were wrong about that, does it?" He walked to his wife and wrapped his arms around her.

Brennan scoffed at the thought. "Of course not. Why would it bother me? I'm usually correct, but I'm not perfect, and I do make errors occasionally. It appears that in this case, according to the judge, I was mistaken."

Booth laughed out loud at that statement. "According to the judge you were wrong, but you still don't believe that, do you? You still think you were right." Brennan narrowed her eyes and glared at him, pretending to be offended. "Come on, Bones. I know you. You absolutely hate being wrong, and you always rationalize the situation to make yourself right."

Brennan put her arms around her husband's neck and acted shocked. "Are you suggesting that I sometimes twist the facts to get the results I want? I'm a rational scientist. You should know I'd never do something like that. Really, Booth, I'm fine." She glanced at her watch. "Oh, look at the time. We should probably be going. We have reservations for seven, remember?"

"No...not so fast there, Bones...I want to know something even more important…" Booth winked at her as he leaned down to give her a kiss.

Brennan tilted her head as she smirked at her husband. "What could be more important to you right now than veal parmesan with spaghetti? You said you were starving…"

"Okay...here goes. I know you don't like to admit it, but if you believed psychology was a real science, and was actually right about Conrad's identity disorder, you would be correct about the murder, because one of the identities did murder another one. But if you're determined to hate psychology because it's a pseudoscience, then you'd be wrong, and it wasn't a murder, it was a suicide. So what's more important to you, Bones? Hating psychology because you think it isn't scientific and being wrong, or being correct about the murder even if it means you have to accept that psychology could be right?"

Brennan smiled as she considered Booth's question. "What's important right now is that I'm hungry."

"Nope...not good enough. How important is it to you to be correct in this situation? Important enough to admit psychology might be a valid science?'

"I think I want vegetable lasagne tonight." Brennan grinned as Booth kissed her again.

"You know I'm not gonna drop this, Bones. I'm gonna find out the answer to my question tonight, one way or the other..."

"So are you saying that you have methods guaranteed to make me talk and give up my darkest secrets?" She smiled coyly as she sauntered toward the office door.

"Actually, Bones….if I remember correctly, I can not only make you talk, I can make you moan and scream, too…" Booth was wearing a wolfish grin as he twitched his eyebrows at her.

"Perhaps before we get to the interrogation portion of our evening we should eat dinner first…"

"Okay, let's go." Booth grinned. "but you can count on us finishing this discussion later at home."

Brennan laughed as she looped her arm through Booth's. "I certainly hope so…"

 _A/N: thanks for reading my little story. This is my first case fiction, and I had a lot of fun writing it._


End file.
